


The First Fertile Cycle

by halfhardtorock



Series: omegaverse Hannibal [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Biting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Older Man/Younger Man, PWP without Porn, Restraints, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-12
Updated: 2013-06-12
Packaged: 2017-12-14 18:45:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/840150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfhardtorock/pseuds/halfhardtorock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will's first heats were hormonal, his coming of age. But now he's fertile and begging to be tied.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First Fertile Cycle

He wakes up to hot breath on his face. He clucks at the boy in annoyance, half-awake, and tries to find the clock to check the time. It's still dark.

The boy is parting his nightshirt, and an agile, devilish tongue plays with one of his nipples.

"Already?" he sighs, voice sleepy and unused.

"Uh-huh," Will breathes, lapping at his chest hair, and then making that purring sound in his chest that means he's wet. 

Hannibal scents the air, buries his face in the boy's curls and scents him deeply. It readies him, smelling his godson's sweet skin, still so new and ripe. He can smell the heat on him, just that first sweat. Not nearly as dire as the boy would have it seem, the way he's spread his fine hands around Hannibal's chest while he licks eagerly and pumps his eager hips against Hannibal's thigh.

Hannibal flips him easily onto his back, enjoys the way the boy shows his soft, vulnerable underbelly to him, unafraid and excited. Hannibal hitches one of the boy's legs over an arm, spreads him. Finds his hole with his fingertips and tests the give.

The boy's head arches back and his healthy adam's apple rides and bobs on his throat, which vibrates with his purrs. Hannibal shoves his own sleep pants down over his ass, frees his cock and without any prep, presses all fat and rigid into the boy's sex.

Will lifts his head and bares pretty teeth, a little growling pup that Hannibal chuckles at and grinds into, once, twice. Fucking the impudence right off his face, which goes all hot and wanton instead, mouth knocked loose and slack, eyes full of fever, that young, hormonal lust. Hannibal feels the charge quickly, that turns the mating into love-making, sees when Will does too. The way the boy's eyes get that much more heated, the way the boy's fingers dig sharply into his shoulders.

Every time they fuck now, it becomes this. This grave lovemaking like they'll die if they don't have each other.

"Will," he breathes out, because the feeling climbs further as he thrusts, turns their love-making into something else, something that seems dangerous, almost cataclysmic."Do you feel--"

Will nods, panting and then screws up his eyes, buries his face into Hannibal's chest and starts wailing. Like the feeling has blown past pleasure and into torture. Like Hannibal's killing him.

"What is it? What is--?" Hannibal gasps, eyes rolling in his head as the orgasm starts deep and devastating, and then storms, _storms_ through him.

The speed that he knots the boy makes him press a shaky hand to the bed beneath him, try to ground himself. He's making his own low, distressed noises, completely uncontrolled. Will's sounds are soft little shrieks as his hands scrabble and scratch at Hannibal's back. " _William_ ," Hannibal finds himself sobbing.

Will locks his ankles around his lower back, arches sharply like he's been forced into the position and then the boy is biting Hannibal's shoulder and Hannibal is biting his and they're both coming and seething and shaking in one locked mass.

 

He feels lost in the morning. He forgets a cufflink. Goes back in the room for it twice and forgets it still. He can't remember where the coffee filters are. He stands in the shower for a long time, cupping the hot wound on his shoulder. 

At the fridge, when he's staring at the milk and wondering what he's doing, a lithe, hot-skinned body presses at his back.

Hands slip around his hips and tease at his belt before they just unbuckle him, unzip him and slip inside.

A warm, wet suction finds his ear lobe and Hannibal groans. The boy is masturbating him and sucking his ear, and then one hand strays up to play with his nipples through his shirt. The seduction sets the hair at his nape standing.

When he turns, he catches a whiff of it. A smell that tickles his nose, makes his cock achingly stiff in Will's moving fist. Will's eyes are dazed with lust, his face pretty and rosy and he looks like everything Hannibal has ever wanted, ever desired. And it worsens, his cock only gets harder, when the boy sighs and angles up to kiss him, mouth parted for it, tongue all poised to play with his.

Hannibal turns away with effort, gets his cheek tagged instead. 

"Unnnn, please?" Will breathes, and kisses down Hannibal's cheek, the line of his jaw. "Hannibal, I need you--"

"It's your first. Your first fertile heat. Do you understand?" Hannibal says softly, removing Will's hand from him and holding the boy by the shoulders. Moving him back. 

Will's eyes are confused for a moment but widen in understanding as Hannibal starts to lead him away, keeping him at arms length as they go.

"N-no. No! Hannibal, you can't--! You can't do this!" the boy argues.

Hannibal has to do it soon and get out of the house. Go on a long run. Hunt. Get as far away from the boy's scent if he's going to resist him.

"We planned for this. There are toys next to the bed," Hannibal reminds him, but Will is thrashing now. Hannibal has to twist the boy's hair in one of his fists to get him through and into the bedroom. "Please. William," he grits. "It is how it's done."

He presses the boy's face into the bed, but Will kicks, flails. He has to put his knee into the boy's back and bear down until he gives a little, and then he gets the boy's wrist in one of the restraints he's had set up for the last few heats. Just in case. The work has made his breath quicken. More and more of the boy's pheromones have infiltrated his system. He can taste them, pungent at the back of his throat. He covers his hand over his mouth and nose and Will flips over onto his back and begs.

"I know what we planned, but please, Hannibal. _Please_. I need... I need you to _provide_ \--"

Hannibal's hand is visibly shaking when he tries to pet the boy's curls once before turning his back on him.

"Oh god, no. No! Please! Hannibal, _you can't--_!" the boy cries for him as Hannibal locks their bedroom door and flies out of the house.

 

He tries to keep himself away from the boy. But his body is hot and achy and turned on. Made ready to give the boy what he needs. He tries to remember, in the stupid-heat of it, the sweet boy Will was, back before the heats, when there was nothing between them but a comfortable, mutual fondness. 

It just makes him growl, a low, menacing sound in his chest. He's out in the woods and taking his jacket off, ripping at his tie to remove it. 

The memory makes him want to put his teeth in the young man's tender nape, to suck bruises into his skin. To hurt him with his cock. The boy has always taken him with little discomfort, has always rolled onto Hannibal's angry cock like his joints were bendable and well-oiled and made for it. Sometimes he imagines making the boy cry out, making the boy bite the pillow with the pain.

He's standing in the woods with his shirt off, his chest bare, out of breath. He scents the air, can't tell if he can still smell Will or if it's just those thick pheromones, clogging up his throat.

If he hunts now, he'll have to use his teeth. It's been a long while since he tore out someone's throat with just the weapon on his mouth.

 

It's gotten worse, his craving for the boy. He's sweating and stroking himself off, trying to rid himself of all the rude heat that's making him feel dazed and irritable. 

He knows that it's normal, for an alpha to feel provoked, to feel predatory when his mate is fertile. That if the bond isn't strong, the alpha may savage his mate in his own desperation. 

His hands tremble as he strokes himself frantically, his skin steaming, his own pheromones rising off of him like waves of heat. 

And then he freezes, hand mid-stroke, scents the air.

"Oh William," he croons, tasting the boy's sweat-wet curls. That familiar salt and skin. It's a faint flicker on an eddy of air.

His skin prickles everywhere in a rush of feeling, knowing that Will is out there in the woods too, vulnerable, wet and eager to be mated. Oh god, to be _bred_.

The growl he lets off is low and promising. He's not sure who he's threatening, Will or any alpha that might try to get to him first.

 

Will doesn't even try to run, like he knows the tease, which during any other heat would get them both off, would drive Hannibal to violence. 

Instead, the boy' eyes go wide and fearful when he smells and sees Hannibal, and then he's cowering on the ground, offering his nape, shivering in the throes of his heat.

Hannibal crouches, rips the boy's head off the ground with a first in his curls, makes Will whine, long and sweet. Hurt. He snarls at him then "has anyone touched you?"

"N-no," Will whimpers. 

He arcs the boy's neck tight so he can put his face in his curls. Smell deeply. He knows the boy has hurt himself. Must have dislocated his thumb to get out here, to escape. He's pleased with him, his determination. But he's also flushed with this rage. That Will would risk getting caught by another Alpha. His pheromones are thick now, clogging Hannibal's respiratory system, burning through his nerves. Not long from now, in desperation, he would have given himself to anyone who came for him. He would have let anyone mate him, strew their dirty seed all over the inside of him.

He's setting his teeth deep in the boy's nape before he can think. This is how they mate when the boy needs breeding. With teeth and claw and domination. 

"Yes, oh god. Show me, teach me--" the boy is babbling as Hannibal snarls around the flesh in his mouth, compels the boy down in a submissive position again with his pretty face in the dirt.

The hips, so fluid and responsive, curl up, brandish his ass. And he's soaking for it. Body wetter than Hannibal has ever felt it. Strings of slick slipping out of him as Hannibal feels with rough fingers. The boy's ass is a slick cunt, the lubrication thicker, stickier. Hannibal tests it with his fingers, works the boy up to a panting rhythm, finding the way the slick clings and pulls at his skin incensing. Like the boy's body was made to grip his cock, to bring him off that much quicker.

He clamps down tighter on Will's nape and puts his cock to him in one forceful thrust.

Will cries out at the feeling, the sounds muffled in the dirt.

Inside, the boy is a cauldron. Heat like he's never felt, sweltering and alive around his cock. He didn't know the boy's temperature would change so dramatically. It makes him whine in his own throat, a broken, rare sound that Will moans to in response.

"I love you, oh I love you. Please. _Please_ Hannibal--" Will is begging, switching his ass, arching to free his mouth from dirt, his little chin digging in instead. 

"Will--" Hannibal whines, and he's mating the boy with all this shaky strength. He didn't realize that in this moment, the boy would rule him, the boy would own him so completely. 

"Yes, you are perfect. So good. Hannibal, you are so _good_ ," the boy babbles his approval as he's getting fucked apart. Every single praise is like a squeeze to Hannibal's trembly sack, like a crude kick to his spine. It scrambles his brain, makes him keen with arousal, which builds to sickening heights, strangles these ugly sounds out of his throat.

It only seems to gratify Will and make him sluttier for it. He angles into Hannibal's fuck, rolls his hips in this way that's all giving, mollifying. Like a promise that he won't leave, won't tear himself away. That he's giving himself to Hannibal for good. And Hannibal's hands respond by gripping the boy's hips harder, bruising him to keep him there, on his knees for him.

He rips the boy off the ground and onto his vicious cock over and over and over while the boy begs a panting mantra of "Mate me mate me mate me,"

Everything about Will is delicious in the moment, his body young and lean and pink, his skin silky, his muscles small and succulent. His whole perfect body, all moving and alive and handsome makes Hannibal groan, makes him run his hand all over him, feeling what is his.

" _Yes_ ," Will says, preening breathlessly at Hannibal's open appreciation, "I'm yours. Put your young inside me. Breed with me--"

Hannibal's knees pit the ground as the affection chokes him, as the arousal magnifies to a point where there's nothing more than Will's skin, Will's warmth, Will's cunt. Will's need to be bred and glutted with seed.

His mouth aches along with his cock, swells wet with saliva at the same time his knot starts to feel puffy and sore and ready to thicken. He growls the boy's name and clamps Will's bruised nape in his teeth again. The boy gasps "That's it! You're so good, Hannibal--" and Hannibal's eyes cross as his knot suddenly surges with blood, ties the boy fast. Will hisses in shock, begs "Oh fuck, there. Fill me. _Please_. Shit, _please_ \--"

And it roars through him and out of him, pleasure that makes him howl, pleasure that wraps its cruel hand around his sack and wrenches. 

And Will responds with a broken laugh, joyful in his conquest.

 

They're tied for a long time. 

The boy is all long-bodied and warm with fertility, his scent changing as Hannibal's seed does its work. Hannibal can't get enough of it, keeps burying his nose in the boy's nape to sample the new olfactory experience of impregnating his godson. He's surprised twice with smaller, wracking orgasms, like the boy's fecundity compels the aftershocks into providing more of what he needs. It leaves him in a weakened state, a hot, blushing mess at the boy's long back. 

Will throws a smug smile over his shoulder at the next one, bites his lip and uses his internal muscles to ramp the orgasm up, squeeze at the knot as it trembles. Hannibal curses in his mother tongue into the boy's small shoulder, shivers.

After a while, he finds himself grooming the boy with his tongue, licking the salt off and leaving the skin rosy and clean. The boy sighs at the feeling and milks his knot a few more times. 

"God, you feel right inside me," Will tells him. 

"Your hand?" Hannibal asks and after a moment, the boy lifts his hand up, brandishes the dislocated thumb. 

"Hurts," he pouts, his mating endorphins taking the edge off the pain. Hannibal puts his arms around him, takes the boy's hand in his gently and then with a confident twist, he puts his thumb back in place. 

The boy gasps in pain, but then burrows back, ass pressing tightly into the cup of Hannibal's hips, getting comfort in the knot's firmness, tightness.

Hannibal sucks marks into the boy's small spread of shoulders, snuffles at him, scenting over and over.

He reaches around him to play with Will's small erection, warm it in his hand.

"F-ffuck," Will swears and then groans in approval when Hannibal bites him harder for it.

"I'm yours now. You made me yours--" Will tells him, and Hannibal snarls in a shocked breath, orgasms again.


End file.
